


Laundry Day

by 10centpistol



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Oral Sex, Sex, sex on a washing machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 13:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10centpistol/pseuds/10centpistol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long week at work leaves you both in need of some stress relief. </p><p>Basically it's 7000 words of porn. I tried to be as, ahem, detailed as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laundry Day

To say it’s been a rough week would be putting it lightly. You spent at least an extra fifteen hours of overtime at work, which meant that you haven’t had much time to do, or even think about, anything beyond project deadlines and the drag of the clock during group meetings.

Every day you’d come home well after dark, kick off your heels, and change into sweatpants before heating up some mildly suspicious-looking leftovers and plopping in front of the couch, dragging yourself to bed not long afterwards. Glancing at the clock once to ensure your 4:45 alarm was set, you fell into bed with water on your face still drying.

You groan as you reach the door of your third floor walk-up apartment. Your mind has a singular focus: sipping on a glass of expensive wine, possibly with a foot rub later on in the evening once you’re no longer alone on the couch.

Opening the front door to your personal sanctuary—finally free from nagging bosses, incompetent coworkers, and the lingering smell of day-old coffee that seemed to permeate the entire office—you expect all your stress to melt away. What you actually see when you enter the room is a neglected apartment that screams “over-worked and under-paid young professional”: dishes are piled up in the sink, the week’s mail rests unsorted on the counter (you shudder to think of how many bills lay within the stack), and the hallway to your bedroom is a landmine of pencil skirts and assorted undergarments.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself as you drop your purse on the counter. More than anything, the house is an embarrassment. You would hate to have your boyfriend come home from his own week of exhausting travel for research on a case and find that you couldn’t even keep the apartment in order for five days.

Being a fourth-year associate in one of the area’s top law firms doesn’t lend itself to good hours and a reasonable amount of time off as it is, and ever since Erwin got the promotion five months ago he’s busted his ass to prove himself to the partners. When he came home early one Friday afternoon with a bottle of champagne to announce he’d finally gotten the position, you were hardly surprised—you couldn’t imagine him being anything besides a lawyer. His charm that makes you go weak at the knees is great for wooing clients and keeping them happy, but he can just as easily deliver a calculated argument to shut the opposing side down in the courtroom. One unfortunate argument over Thanksgiving dinner with your parents made that clear.

Besides his natural talent and quick thinking, he doesn’t mind losing sleep if it will help win a case. Unfortunately, this also makes him the go-to guy for passing off busy work. Every time you try to voice a concern about all the hours he puts in, he just shrugs and points out that you’re doing the same thing for your job. The stress has caused a few fights in the past, but you easily came to a mutual understanding that sometimes work can be hard, but there will always be ways to relieve stress.

The mess is really getting you worked up, and seeing no other option, you immediately change into more comfortable clothes and get to work on the various piles you’d left around the house “to clean up later.” You crank up your favorite playlist and get your groove on as you wash dishes and wipe down the counter, relishing in the feeling of your stress dissipating somewhere between the therapeutic scrubbing of built-up grime and the ridiculous dance routine you’re creating for yourself as you move around the kitchen.

With a bag of trash in one hand and the stray clothes you collected in the other, you walk to the back room of your apartment where the trash bins and laundry machines sit. You start up the washer and begin to load your clothes in. Between the music blasting and the rushing of water into the machine, you don’t even notice the sound of the front door opening or the footsteps just behind you.

Just as you close the lid on the washer a pair of hands settle on your shoulders.

“Erwin?” you ask, your voice a mixture of excitement and hesitation. While you’re thrilled to see him after a long week of work and being apart, part of you wishes he’d arrived just a couple hours later so you could get yourself and the apartment into some kind of acceptable condition.

Instead of answering, he slides his hands down your shoulder blades and around to your stomach, lifting the hem of your shirt, his hands still cold from outside. You instinctively shudder away from the touch but find his body pressed against yours, keeping you in place.

A multitude of sensations hit you at once as your skin adjusts to his cold hands while your ear warms to a hot breath from behind, accompanied by a deep rumble that spreads from your neck all the way down your spine.

“It’s good to be home,” he hums in your ear as he gives your breasts a well-timed squeeze. Your head rolls back onto his shoulder as all the remaining tension leaves your body and a soft sigh escapes your lips. Both of you are thrilled to be back in each other’s company, but perhaps for different reasons. While Erwin is clearly looking to reconnect in a physical way, you’re more than happy to recline on the couch and spend a quiet evening together, too spent for much else in the way of activity. _Maybe I can even sweet-talk him into finishing the laundry_ , you muse.

Just as you’re about to suggest he help with the clothes—because, hey, your back is killing you—Erwin spins you around by the shoulders and locks his lips onto yours before you even stumble against the washing machine. All thoughts of _god damn it that’s the exact place my back hurts_ leave your mind as his tongue pushes insistently into your mouth. You missed him this week, so you can indulge his forwardness.

Truth be told, you’re getting just as horny as him after catching a glimpse of his collarbones under his shirt . He must have left his suit jacket and tie at the door, because he’s just in the gray button-down you bought him after he got the promotion, top two buttons undone and sleeved rolled up above his elbows, but still neatly tucked into his fitted black slacks.  

Forgoing his usual nibbles on your bottom lip and teasing swipes with his tongue, Erwin’s hands snake quickly through your hair and tip your head up at just the right angle for his mouth to meet yours, barely giving either of you a chance to breathe as he hungrily kisses you. Before you know it, you’re bent in half, feet still on the floor but back pressed fully against the machine.  

“My hotel room had a beautiful desk,” he whispers, breath hot over the shell of your ear. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d look bent over it.” His brashness has you sucking in a breath and biting your lip.

You squirm, trying to find a comfortable position, but the weight of Erwin’s body and the force of will behind his lips pins you. Your hands move up to his broad shoulders with the intention of easing his pace, but instead you find yourself scrambling for a hold on his shirt as he lifts you off the ground, two large hands gripping your ass firmly and setting you on top of the washer.

Once again face to face with Erwin, he wastes no time spreading your legs wide and slotting himself against you. Something like a chuckle leaves his mouth when you raise an eyebrow at him, confusion clearly written across your face. It’s not his forwardness or his display of strength that’s catching you off guard; it’s that usually after a day of travelling all he’s capable of is lying on the couch for a couple hours before heading to bed early, unable to function properly until he gets a proper night’s sleep to restore his trademark charm.

Not that you’re complaining. He’s already got your shirt up around your neck, not even bothering to take it fully off before deftly unhooking your bra with one hand, the other splayed across your lower back to support you as he gently thrusts up against your stomach.

“Do you even know what you’re doing to me right now?” he asks, his words already labored.

You don’t have to look down at the sizeable tent in his pants to recognize that Erwin is already fully hard; the length pressing and rubbing against you betrays any sort of modesty he may have been trying to maintain. As much as he tries to keep his composure and slow himself down, his thrusts only become more insistent and the hand gripping your waist from behind begins squeezing rhythmically to match the pace he’s set. You roll your hips in search of friction where you need it, but the angle is slightly off, leaving you restless and frustrated.

His hips don’t miss a beat as you release your grip on his shoulders to remove your shirt, tossing it over his head and toward the door, not caring about tidiness anymore. Spurred on by the sight of your now-bare shoulders, he takes the bra straps in his teeth and makes a show of tugging them down. You shimmy your arms to provide assistance and speed him along. As cute as he is, you really want to see what else he can do with that mouth.

Your plan works: the wiggling of your arms draws attention to your newly-exposed breasts, inviting his gaze and his hands. He practically rips your bra the rest of the way off your arms and throws it unceremoniously behind him to join your abandoned shirt. A breathy laugh at his eagerness abruptly becomes a groan stifled in your throat as his lips latch onto your left nipple and his hands hurriedly move to the waistband of your pants. The sweatpants you’re wearing may not be your idea of sexy, but Erwin certainly doesn’t seem to mind as his left hand slips easily beneath the elastic, grabbing your hip and pulling you into him in time with a particularly hard thrust, a tease of what’s to come.

Long fingers trail across your skin and curl around your ass, fingertips pressing in hard and insistent. The heated contact sends a new jolt of sensation through your body and you tip your head back, exposing the long column of your neck for Erwin to lavish attention on. He zeroes in on the exact spot that always forces a moan to escape your lips, biting and sucking up and down your neck and leaving a myriad of marks.

The nip of his teeth ghosts on the edge of pain but he’s quick to soothe the sting with gentle kisses before moving on to the next spot. He works from your collarbone up to the spot just behind your ear, his hot breath tickling your hairline, making you squirm. A particularly forceful nibble causes you to yelp and give him a playful smack on the back of his head, and he kisses you on the cheek in a way of apologizing before returning his focus to your neck.

You know he’s really worked up when he begins letting out little moans into the crook of your neck. They leave his lips without intention; they’re not aimed at your arousal (though they certainly make your blood pump faster) or for making a show of his own desire. You only hear these moans when Erwin is completely beside himself, no longer able to filter his emotions and maintain his characteristic collected demeanor. That’s when you know you’ve really got him going. When he drops his self-awareness and stops trying to be proper and put together, when his raw emotions come bubbling to the surface, it’s more intimate than any physical act could ever be.

Erwin is everywhere on you at once—one hand caressing the curve of your ass, lips devouring the soft skin of your neck, the other hand easily cupping your entire breast, massaging it in his palm while nimble fingertips pull your nipple into a peak. After being gone for almost a week, it’s like he’s making up for lost time, overwhelming you with too many sensations across your body.

"I'm going to devour every inch of you," he growls, hot and low, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth. "Your mouth..." His lips begin to trail down your neck. "Your delicious tits..." Large hands push your breasts together as his mouth runs eagerly over the cleavage before continuing down your torso, taking his time to enjoy your body until he reaches the edge of your pants.

Something must click in his mind, because all at once his lips leave your skin and you feel your sweatpants being unceremoniously yanked down your legs. They come off easily, already halfway down your ass from the hand Erwin had worked deep in them. The mood changes instantly when he sees you in just your underwear. His eyes drink in the sight of your bare skin as he runs his hands reverently from your ankles all the way up to your hips. His fingers play along the edge of the lacy red panties, exposing a sliver of skin here and there. Heat pools in your stomach as you watch his fingers do their dance. You expect him to tug your underwear off as impatiently as he did your sweats, but instead he stills his fingers as if contemplating his next move in exact detail.

The momentary pause only serves to increase the jolt of pleasure that surges down to your toes when his middle finger rubs directly over your clit through the lace. Without thinking, your hand grabs onto Erwin’s wrist, trying to escape the sudden stimulation but also demanding more. He chuckles deeply, evidently satisfied with the response he’s drawing from you.

The teasing finger trails down from your clitoris to play in the wetness he created. Adding another finger, he presses in slightly, rubbing in small circles. Your body slowly draws him in but the layer of lace frustratingly prevents his fingers from slipping farther inside.

Just as impatient as you, he cocks an eyebrow, ever-confident as smooth words suggest, “Let’s get these out of the way.” You let out the breath you’d been holding since he first started teasing you and start scooting your legs so you can reach to pull your panties down.

“Hold still,” he demands, his voice much deeper and rougher now, but still commanding. Your hands instantly fall to your sides, ready to move again only at his word. He takes his fingers off you and you groan at the loss of his touch, as deviously unsatisfying as it was. Thinking he’s too exhausted to continue foreplay and just wants to get to the main event, you raise your eyes to meet his, putting on your best challenging face and preparing to demand more.

You open your mouth, a witty quip about his stamina ready, but your lips fall shut when his eyes lock onto yours. You recognize this look, but you’ve never seen it in this context. You’ve played the role of smartass witness to help him rehearse his cross-examinations before, and you remember feeling sorry for whatever unsuspecting chump would have to confront Erwin, his glare conveying indisputable confidence and power.  

It is with this invisible force that he pins you in place, your hands resting on the washer and hips still as he cups the curvature of your upper thigh and lifts you slightly. He continues to hold you delicately as he bends to tug at the lace with his teeth, working the fabric over your ass inch by inch. You squeal quietly each time he bites a little of your skin, but you quickly stifle the noise in your throat, sensing a demand for your silence.

He sets you down once he’s gotten the panties to your thighs, but he does not release them from his mouth. Instead, he continues working them down your legs, moving from one to the other and delivering a chaste kiss before pulling. The trail of wet kisses sends a cool shiver up your legs but increases the heat you feel between them. Erwin easily removes the small garment hanging from your outstretched toes and pauses to admire the view of your body laid out for him. Suddenly on full display, a hint of nervousness crosses your mind as you watch your panties fall to the floor, the last barrier between you and Erwin gone, but the anticipation to feel his next touch overwhelms any other thoughts.

His right hand splays across your stomach, pushing gently, encouraging you to lay back. Another jolt of arousal courses through you now that you know what’s about to happen. Eagerly, you smile and swipe your tongue across your bottom lip. Propped up on your elbows, you can track every kiss that he makes headed back up your legs, but unlike the string of kisses he left moments before, these are sloppy, hungry.

He’s moaning softly into your flesh, but you swear you can hear him say, “I need to taste you” before he drops quickly to his knees. He stares up at you from a submissive pose, yet you still feel completely under his control. Your legs spread instinctively wider, urging him closer to where he _needs_ to be.

At the first slide of his tongue across your clit your arms shake so hard you drop flat onto the machine, a punctuated shout filling the otherwise silent room. Your arms jerk violently at the electricity he’s sending through you, your hands squeezing over your own body for some stability as he takes you apart. Erwin lets out a slightly pained noise as your fingers settle in his hair and pull, but his mouth does not leave your clit. The flick of his tongue intensifies and he spreads his lips to create suction, your tender bundle of nerves right at the center.

“Ah!....Erwin! It’s…”

You want to tell him that it’s too much, he’s too much. You’re overstimulated and it’s on the verge of being painful, but you can’t find the words to make him stop. You can finally catch a breath when he takes his lips off you and pauses for a moment to look at you, folds dripping with his saliva and your wetness. You can’t see him—your body too wracked to even lift your head—but you feel his lips twitch into a smile against your inner thigh. A wet spot remains on your skin but you can’t be damned to care when two large fingers sink into you, sliding in without resistance.

You grab Erwin’s hair with renewed force, but this time he was prepared, humming smugly at the reaction he knew he would elicit from you. He pumps them in and out of you slowly, pausing each time his fingers are about to breach your entrance to rub lazy circles around your opening but still deliver the pressure you need. Pressing in again, he scissors his fingers and twists his wrist, spreading them wider each time as your pliant walls accept the stretch.

“Erwin,” you whine, almost breathless, your voice high and tight in your throat. “I… I need…” Unable to finish your thought, you bite your lip and moan, hoping this will get your message across. You know he can satisfy you with his fingers, yet right now your mind is barrelling down a singular track.

_Full. You want to be filled._

“You can take one more.” It’s a statement, not a question.

You want to say _yes_ , to beg for another finger, but he’s already slipped it inside and resumed the unyielding twisting of his hand. When he begins working over your clit with his thumb in perfect time with his thrusts your legs start shaking nonstop. Your feet move without your control between the edge of the washer and his tense shoulders, trying but failing to stay still for Erwin under the onslaught of his skilled strokes. Familiar heat builds in your belly and radiates deep inside you, creeping up your spine and intensifying with each passing second.

Without pause in the motion of his fingers, the pressure of his thumb is replaced by intense suction over your clit. The noise you make can only be described as a scream, wide-eyed and shocked. Every inch of your skin tingles on the edge of an explosion and white light builds behind your eyes, narrowing your vision to pinpoints—tunnel vision with a single focus of crashing over your peak. He hums around your nub and you swear you feel those vibrations in the tips of your toes.

The hand not buried inside your tight heat snakes its way up to your stomach and rests just below your belly button. Those fingertips press down into your flesh to meet the upward pressure inside you, already zeroed in on your g-spot. A new sensation fills you, pulsing through your core instead of travelling throughout your body. You’ve never been this wet in your life. Your toes curl tightly on his shoulders, anchoring you as your entire body squirms, punctuated every few seconds by a forceful thrash. Your body can’t contain the pleasure threatening to burst from deep within you. Erwin would need to hold you down if his hands weren’t already occupied.

Tears forming in the corner of your eyes, voice wrecked and lips swollen from trying unsuccessfully to bite back mewls of ecstasy, your inner walls clench rapidly around Erwin’s fingers as your orgasm hits you with unbelievable force. Your heels slip down his back to drag him closer into you and your hands in his hair pull taut, holding his mouth in place against you so he can feel you tremble.

The explosion inside you is so intense, so overwhelming, that you’re rendered voiceless, your mouth hanging open but lacking any sound. Inside your head you’re screaming _Erwin!_ like it’s the only word you know.

He milks your through your orgasm, the pressure on your g-spot relentless until you go completely limp, labored breathing ringing in your ears and filling the room. Your body is still humming when he finally slips his fingers out of you, your oversensitive walls feeling every movement as he withdraws. His other hand runs soothingly up and down your thigh, helping to bring you back down from your high.

He doesn’t move from his position on the floor and you feel him rest his head on your leg, as if he too is drained from experiencing your climax. You’re still staring at the ceiling, blinking slowly as you regain composure. “Erwin,” you say tentatively, quietly—it’s almost a question, as if what just happened couldn’t have actually been real. He rolls his head to kiss your leg once more before slowly standing up, his gray shirt now in your peripheral vision.

Erwin holds his hand out reverently, raising his fingers to inspect them in the light. They’re completely slick and slide easily against each other. He brings them up to his face, tongue peeking from between his lips to lick the tip of his middle finger before drawing all three into his mouth. He cleans his hand efficiently, ensuring he doesn’t miss a drop. You hear the pop of his fingers leaving the suction of his mouth and then a rumbling laugh, more to himself than to you.

“I’ve made such a mess,” he purrs, looking down between your legs thoughtfully. “I’d better clean this up.”

Before you can process his words, he bends down and pushes his tongue through the wetness still pooled at your entrance, drinking in as much of you as he can. It feels nothing like the teasing and thrusting he gave you before, yet the eroticism of it reinvigorates the fading tingles coursing through your body. You hum in appreciation as he continues lavishing attention on you.

Finally pulling away and straightening his back, his frame looms over you, exuding even more confidence and swagger than usual. You don’t hesitate to raise your head when he says—demands—“Look at me.” Your eyes widen, astonished at the sight of Erwin flushed from his forehead to the skin above his collar, lips wet and swollen, and chin shiny from rubbing against you. Pupils blown wide and ringed by slivers of piercing blue, his gazes down on you as your eyes flick across his face to take in his utterly debauched appearance.

The growing rumble resonating from his chest draws your attention upwards until his eyes lock onto yours. Grinning deviously, voice dripping like honey, he whispers, “You taste _absolutely delicious_.” There’s no hint of uncertainty in his tone; he knows exactly how good he is, exactly what he does to you. And he’s not wrong—you need to get your lips on his and taste yourself on him.

Arms extended, you nudge Erwin to get him to pull you up. Happily he scoops you up, his large arms easily encircling your back so you can rest in the crooks of his elbows. Tipping you back slightly, your kiss would fit perfectly in a romantic comedy save for his obvious erection and your complete nudity. Erwin lets you take complete control of the kiss, allowing you to play over his lips before dipping your tongue deeper to explore your taste in his mouth. It’s slow, the pace steady and in total contrast to the earlier urgency. Your breath mingles but there’s no need to break the kiss for air.

Erwin gives a hum of approval when you work on smoothing his hair back in place. You want to run your fingers all the way through the soft strands, but you can’t deny him this one comfort of a proper appearance, considering every other inch of him looks thoroughly corrupted. The soothing attention on his head combined with the leisurely kiss have Erwin slightly weary, the tension in his muscles dissipating. You can’t let him relax—not yet, at least—so you withdraw your tongue and focus on sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, running your teeth over the thin flesh to get his blood pumping a little harder.

Erwin perks up just as quickly as he cooled down, getting the hint easily. The subtle rock of his hips draws one of your hands away from his hair down to the soft fabric of his dress slacks. You rub up his thigh, drumming your fingers along the way until you reach his cock straining against his pants. He’s completely hard and you’re not sure how the pants are still holding him in; _it must be incredibly uncomfortable_ , you think. You pay special care to the wet spot soaking through at the tip, pressing hard in small circles with your thumb and cupping him in your palm.

There’s a sudden shift in control when you begin touching him. He’s a whimpering mess in mere seconds and you intend to milk it for all it’s worth. Though you speak softly, brushing against his lips, the challenge in your voice can’t be hidden: “There had better be more after all that.” You punctuate your words with a twisting stroke. His hips falter momentarily, so fast that it’s almost unnoticeable, but you know your voice is affecting him. You push harder. “You can’t get me all worked up for nothing.”

At that he disentangles one arm from behind you and pulls you flush to him by the back of your head, your ass inching close to the edge of the machine. His other hand seizes your breast and tweaks your nipple hard. You want to yelp but you steady yourself and focus on eliciting more noises from Erwin instead. Squeezing his hips between your thighs, you manage to slow his thrusts. Making your point abundantly clear, you lay your hand over as much of his length as you can and swipe your tongue across his lips once before saying, “Let me show you what you’ve been missing all week.”

His shoulders tense and he sucks in a shallow breath. His cock twitches in his pants, clearly interested in accepting the invitation. “Couch?” he asks, open-mouthed, eyebrows raised in pleading.

“Couch.”

He picks the sofa over the bed every time if a blowjob is even a possibility. _This way I can watch you swallow every inch_ , he told you once. Both of his hands find your ass and lift you unceremoniously. Your legs circle around his waist to hold on as the hand on his head grabs on instinctively at the sudden change in altitude. You figure there’s no point in trying to save his perfect hair now, considering what’s coming next. As he whisks you out to the living room you take one resentful sidelong glance at your clothes littering the floor before returning to undoing the buttons of Erwin’s shirt, struggling slightly to complete the task using one hand but managing to get all but two open by the time he sets you down next to the coffee table.

As soon as your feet hit the floor you slide your hands over his newly exposed skin and down to the buckle of his pants, working frantically to get it undone as Erwin finishes the last buttons. You kneel to help him out of his pants as he works his arms free, moving too quickly and entangling the shirt more. You wait patiently at his feet, eyes wide and mouth open, hands behind your back as he bends down clumsily to slip his socks off.  He turns momentarily to toss them with the rest of his clothes, now standing in just his boxer briefs—which are quite form-fitting and, when slung low like they are now, allow your eye to follow the enticing lines created by the cut of his hipbones.

You wait until you’re sure he’s paying attention before pulling the briefs over his ass and giving each toned cheek an appreciative squeeze—you give him a lot of grief for being a gym rat, but it certainly has its perks. Then you slowly take his erection out and push the fabric down his legs, fully exposing him. His cock juts out, pointing up with the slightest curve to the left, the tip shiny with precum. He’s more than ready for you, but you make no move to touch him.

“Sit” is all you have to say to get Erwin onto the couch, the cloth soft on his bare skin. He slides his hips forward to give you better access to his cock and reclines back, sinking deep into the pillows. In just a few seconds you’ll have him limp and pliable, so there’s no sense in him trying to remain upright. He rests his hands respectfully on his thighs, waiting patiently for you, whenever you’re ready.

Shuffling closer to him on your knees, you hurriedly kiss him once more to slow the pace and calm his heartbeat before leaning back on your heels at the perfect height to reach his cock. You part your lips at the sight, eager to taste him. He’s cut, the tip a slight pink and the shaft long and smooth, slightly darker than the skin at the tops of his thighs. One hand at the base, you wrap all four fingers around him and angle him toward your waiting mouth.

His eyes widen as you inch toward the head then flutter shut when you first make contact, sliding over the silky skin. A moan rumbles in his throat and you pause, letting him adjust to the stimulation. Then, without a moment of warning, you relax your jaw and take him in until your lips brush against your hand. He whimpers and digs his nails into the sensitive flesh of his thighs to keep from bucking up into your mouth. The flush creeping down his legs mingles with the redness of the ten small crescents he just created.

You continue taking only half his cock until his control slips and he brushes one hand tentatively over your forehead, resting it gently on your hair. Etiquette and experience have taught him to keep his hands to himself—be happy someone’s touching your cock and don’t get greedy—but getting him to break his own rules is what you aim for. He’s reaching his limits of restraint and you’re ready to cross that line, because the consequences are nothing but rewarding.

Twisting your wrist as you take your hand off his cock, you swallow him down until his trimmed hairs tickle your chin. From this new angle you can just see the wide-open mouth responsible for the drawn-out, incoherent string of vowels filling the room. You match his sounds, humming deep in your throat and swallowing around his dick. Even the smallest movements raise and lower the pitch of his moans. Still he manages to keep his hips in place, though the taut muscles of his legs are shivering slightly.

Those shivers turn to trembles when you idly stroke his inner thighs. You can tell he’s close and neither of you are ready for this to end, so you pull your mouth off and wrap both your hands over his spit-slick length. Even with two hands stacked together, the shiny head, now flushed red, peeks out of your grip, and the tips of your thumbs and middle fingers barely touch. Clearly all your hard work has paid off—this is as thick as you’ve ever seen him.

A few strokes up and down his length have him cupping your chin with both hands in a last-ditch effort to retain composure. You don’t fail to notice that all the blue of his eyes has been swallowed by lust. Without looking away, you bring the tip back to your mouth and take him in halfway, stroking downward with both hands and finally removing one, leaving the other to pump him in time with the motions of your tongue.

Defenses crumbling, Erwin lets out a no-holds barred groan and slides one hand into your hair. You don’t mind at all; in fact, you’re not satisfied with yourself until he’s fully enjoying the moment, letting his self-control slip and acting like someone receiving a damn good blowjob. Placing your hand on top of his to reassure him that you’re enjoying bringing him pleasure, you begin humming around his cock again to drive that message home.

“Oh fuck… If you keep…”

Erwin tries telling you that he’s close, but he can’t manage to get the words out. He doesn't need to tell you though, because all the tell-tale signs are there: short puffs of air through his nose, both legs twitching, his ass lifting slightly off the couch to get just a little deeper.

You pull off with a pop of your lips over the swollen head, giving his thigh a gentle kiss before looking up at his flushed chest and slack mouth, admiring your work. You don’t move from the floor until he opens his eyes, slowly, as if coming out of a haze into brightness.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, and you can’t quite tell if he’s referring to the performance you just gave, or for stopping before he came down your throat. _A little thanks for both is probably in order_ , you decide.

In the span of a few breaths he collects himself, leaning forward with a renewed sense of physical and mental strength. The slow sweep of his eyes over your body behind hooded lids beckons you into his lap. Obeying the summons without thinking twice, you slowly crawl on top of him, sliding your legs on either side of his hips and slotting your ass in the space between his thighs.

Pulling you in for a shallow kiss, his cock rubs teasingly against your stomach. You reach down to stroke him languidly, your hand easily gliding over the shaft. Erwin mirrors your action, reaching behind you and running a finger down the cleft of your ass, quickly reaching the wetness that had been building while you were on your knees. As he slips the tip of one finger in,  you lightly swipe your thumb over the head. Both touches are agonizingly faint, not nearly enough to satisfy. Demanding moans erupt from both your throats and pass between your lips, swallowed down in an increasingly-frenzied clash of tongues.

Your moan becomes a whine when he pulls his finger out of you, moving to curl four fingers under your sit bones. Erwin bats your hand from his cock and holds it steady at the base, then raises you up onto your knees to hover above his dick. You don’t move a muscle as he rubs the tip between your folds, even when he pauses to paint small circles around your clit.

He moves his cock back to rest at your entrance, just barely touching you. His whisper is soft, but there’s no mistaking the demand behind it.

“Now.”

You sink down onto his cock, seating yourself flush on his lap in one go. Pausing to adjust and to let him experience all of your tight, wet heat, you take one deep breath before raising yourself up and sinking all the way down once again, throwing your head back in a cry of pleasure.

Allowing him some room to move, you steady yourself on the back of the couch as he begins to thrust shallowly into you, the top half of his cock never slipping out. The powerful thrusts come with increasing frequency and you scramble for purchase on the cushions, your breath hot on the top of his ear. He circles his hips, teasing the walls of your entrance and sending small bursts of pleasure up to your clit.

“Ah… right there…” you moan into his ear, urging him to continue the work of his hips. “ _More._ ” You pull back to look at his face, assessing the effect your words are having. His lips, previously frozen in a lascivious smirk, are now parted. Every bounce of your breasts draws his eyes up and down in continuous motion with a single focus.

You begin pumping in time with him, coming down hard on his cock to meet his upward thrusts. Every slap of skin is accompanied by a tense grunt from Erwin, trying in vain to stave off his climax. Placing both hands on his shoulders, you hold him still as you let all but the very tip of his dick escape your body before working back down his cock, moving your hips in tight circles as you go.

His stern look almost stops you in your tracks, but before he can voice a concern you quickly drop down onto him and pull up just as fast three times, never letting more than a couple inches inside. You repeat this a few more times, rendering Erwin breathless and trembling slightly. Freezing with the tip at your entrance and threatening to slip out, you lock eyes with him before sinking down to the hilt in one smooth motion.

He throws his head back in pleasure, mouth open but no sound escaping. Hands on your ass, he pulls you to his chest and pumps you up and down on his cock.

“I’m not going to last much longer if we keep that up,” he whispers brokenly, his voice wrecked.

Wrapping both arms around his neck, you growl in his ear, “Erwin, I want you to come.” He moans into your neck and bites your collarbone gently, speeding up his thrusts in a desperate rush to reach his peak now that you’ve allowed it.

Slamming into you hard one last time, his grip on your ass becomes bruisingly tight as his orgasm crashes over him. His hands scramble over your body, squeezing everywhere like he can’t get enough of you, and whimpering as each pulse of come shoots into you. Tremors from the aftershocks of such a powerful climax run through his legs, his hands frozen on your lower back and arms tense on the curve of your waist.

His face is the picture of fucked-out, cheeks glowing and a sheen of sweat on his forehead. At first his eyes are a bit hazy from the orgasm but they quickly focus on you, the small creases around his eyelids conveying his satisfaction before he can even say a word. You press your forehead to his and release a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. He reaches his mouth up to yours and kisses you sleepily, his softening dick still inside you.

You sweep a few errant hairs off his forehead in an attempt to salvage his obvious sex hair, but when a few strands fall back you don’t bother to fix them; you quite like this look on him. He strokes the side of your face tenderly as you slide your hands up and down his arms, soothing the sore muscles and pressing out the knots that he’d certainly been carrying all week.

“Forget the sex, that’s what I really needed,” Erwin mumbles as you continue your massage, moving from his arms to reach behind your back to repeat the treatment on his legs. He hisses in pain as soon as your fingers press into his skin, so you take the initiative to pull off him and ease the load he has to support.

Erwin places one chaste kiss to your chest before keeling over on his side, tugging you down with him to curl into his chest. Sighing against your neck and carding his fingers gently through your hair, you pull away for just a second to reach for a blanket that was knocked off the couch. You throw it haphazardly over both your legs as he pulls you in tight with one arm, mumbling something that sounds like “goodnight” into the base of your neck.

So much for doing laundry.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of a 90+ minute facebook conversation with my friend who I lovingly refer to as my Porn Santa. Don't get us started writing porn. We will not stop.


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